


Depuis Toujours

by Seventysixtyniner



Series: Love in War [3]
Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Bittersweet, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, so happy for one pair and not really the other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 00:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11817357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seventysixtyniner/pseuds/Seventysixtyniner
Summary: "This boy," Collins started, trying to divert the other's focus, "do you love him?"Peter's mouth opened, ready to deny. He paused however, recognizing that there was no use."Yes," he said, "My whole life I have.""Don't lose him then," Collins returned his eyes to the sea."Don't end up like me"





	Depuis Toujours

**Author's Note:**

> So weird note: I changed the verb tense I normally use. Let me know if you like past better than present!! For real. Let me know lol

With his head down and his hands in his pockets, Peter Dawson made his way to Buckland Hospital. He'd just left the office of the Weymouth Herald, where he gave a columnist George's photograph. Leaving, he received empathetic glances from eyes full of pity, and wanted to damn them all. He wasn't a boy who scraped his knee on pavement. He'd been to war for God's sake. He went to war with his father and his best friend who might be laying dead in a hospital bed at this moment. He didn't need their pity.

Peter pushed open the clean, white door and was immediately greeted by the smell of chlorine bleach and lavender. To his relief, the receptionist was going over paperwork with a clearly aggravated elderly woman. He walked straight down the hallway, never once slowing until he reached the room with a plaque next to it reading "108." He turned the silver knob and pushed.

To his shock, he saw a royal blue uniform standing over the hospital bed. The uniform turned to the door, and Peter recognized it to be the RAF pilot from Dunkirk. He couldn't recall his name however, and was about to ask until,

"Collins. It's a pleasure to see you again," the pilot said to him, extending his hand to Peter. "I heard your friend was still here, and thought I'd come by." He shifted on his feet awkwardly. "I never got the chance to formally thank you and your father, for-"

"There's no need to." Peter took the pilot's hand for only about a second, before his gaze was diverted to George's sleeping figure.

"His breathing is steady, but he hasn't woken up at all," Collins reported, looking onto the two boys in front of him with pity.

Peter sighed heavily as he sat in the cushioned folding chair by George's bedside and grabbed his hand.

"How long have you two known each other?" The pilot asked.

"Our whole lives," Peter replied, not tearing his eyes from George's sleeping face. He began to trace a line George's hand with his thumb. Suddenly, the pilot was reminded of late nights at the RAF base, when someone would hold his hand and whisper away nightmares of gunfire and broken engines.

"I shouldn't have let him come," Peter muttered, as if he was afraid George would hear. "I should've told him to go home."

"Don't say that. He wanted to prove himself and wouldve done anything to do it," Collins said, more to comfort himself more than the boy in red.

Collins felt tears pricking in his eyes. He walked to the window and stared at the sky, willing himself to calm down. As his gaze was drawn downward, his eyes settled on the Channel. He thought about his flight with Farrier two days ago though his heart ached as he did so. Farrier's voice echoed in his head, "I'm on him," "What's your fuel?" "Best of luck, Collins."

And then his own, "Should we turn back?"

Collins felt overwhelmed as he remembered. If only he'd _told_ him to go back, _told_ him not to risk it. Before Collins could stop it, he felt a tear on his cheek. He furiously wiped it away, only to feel one on the other side. Peter looked up from George's face to see Collins' shoulders shaking as his hands swiped at his face. He stood up cautiously, remembering the last time he encountered a distressed soldier, and slowly walked to the window.

"What's the matter?"

Collins froze, embarrassed to be caught in his weakness. Only one other man ever saw him cry, and that man had failed to show up to role call and was declared MIA two days ago.

"This boy," Collins started, trying to divert the other's focus, "do you love him?"

Peter's mouth opened, ready to deny. He paused however, recognizing that there was no use.

"Yes," he said, "My whole life I have."

"Don't lose him then," Collins returned his eyes to the sea.

 _Don't end up like me_.

"Is this about Farrier?" Peter asked, snapping Collins out of his thoughts. He turned to Peter, shocked and confused. "I remember you saying that name when we were pulling men out of the water. I figured he was a friend of yours."

"Yes," Collins looked to his feet and laughed bitterly, "A friend."

"I understand," Peter replied. And he did, because he felt the same about the sleeping boy behind him.

Collins then offered his hand for a shake goodbye, and Peter took it with both hands. The pilot asked Peter to say hello to Mr. Dawson for him. Peter insisted Collins return soon, and gave him his family address.

"Come by sometime, seriously," he insisted, still keeping his grip the pilot's hand.

"I will," Collins lied. He retreated his hand and exited, drying his face one last time as he did so.

Peter returned to the seat by George's side, with mind replaying his conversation with the pilot. He thought about the pain that comes with the loss of a lover. He had thought he was experiencing that pain himself, but now he realized that fate was kinder to him than others. The boy he loved was here, with him, and that alone was now enough. Peter was pulled from his meditation by a rustle of bed sheets and stood up. He looked down to see a pair of half-lidded blue eyes staring up at him. Groggily, George asked where they were.

"Buckland Hospital."

"England?"

Peter laughed as tears filled his eyes. "Yes, England" he replied, exasperated as he sat down again.

He became conscience of how sweaty his hands were, and wiped them on his knees. After a beat of silence, George spoke up again.

"Do you think my dad knows about this? How I went to war?"

"Who cares if he does."

"I know, I know. But do you think he does?"

"He will. The Herald said they'll run a story about you. 'Hero at Dunkirk, Just 17'"

George turned his head for the first time to look at Peter and smiled, his eyes twinkling. His eyes returned to the ceiling and his bright smile stayed plastered on his face.

" _Hero_ ," he said, dreamily.

George turned back to Peter, his blissful smile turning into a smirk. "Could you bring me one of my pillows from home? This hero's neck is killing him."

"What, the fame's gotten to you already?" Peter laughed and pushed George's face away from him with his palm.

"Is that how you talk to a Royal Officer?" George replied, his smile unfaltering.

Peter stood straight and saluted the boy in the hospital bed.

"No, Sir!" Though he couldn't help the smile creeping on his face. He'd humor him, of course. He'd humor him because he was so scared he lost him.

"I'll be right back, love!" With that George saw the red sweater flash through the doorframe and vanish, with the absolute comfort they'd be together again soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! You can leave recommendations/whatever in the comments. Especially AUs if you want. I also wanna write a character study of sorts with Alex and the shivering soldier, but no one seems to like the shivering soldier (understandably) so let me know if you'd be interested in that!
> 
> ALSO PSA: These are stories about boys who fought Nazis in 1940, but don't forget we might have to keep fighting in 2017! Recognize injustice and bigotry when you see them and FIGHT them!


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